A Time Before My Name
by AmberMX
Summary: Her expression turned even more hostile, if that was even possible. 'I don't go by that name.' / a little trans!Thalia drabble


**A/N: **Let there be trans! It could be canon-compliant, more or less (technically, they never said if Thalia was cis or trans and she became immortal before being done with puberty), and you can pretty much place this at any point in the timeline you want, after book 3. I haven't read ToA yet and don't plan on doing so, but I think it should also be ToA-compliant.

As usual, content warnings at the beginning of the chapter. These would be **mention of deadname, mentioned character death, smoking** (underage smoking kinda, Thalia is biologically eternally 15).

— x —

I came to lying on the floor. Keeping my eyes closed, remaining still, I tried to survey my surroundings. The ground below me was hard, and even. Most likely concrete. I could feel the sun shining on my face, the temperature fairly warm—surprising, given that it was late November. The air was still, not even a hint of a breeze. Nothing was to be heard but faint, sounds of a city. No footsteps nearby, nor voices.

I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet, ready to tackle anyone or anything within a few feet. To my disappointment, I found myself alone. I was most certainly _not_ in our camp, and it was most certainly _not_ November. By the looks of it, this was a back alley in some kind of downtown area. Farther ahead, I could see a small street, a gas station, and a bunch of houses. The scenery seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

I felt for my weapons. As expected, my dagger was gone. My bow was nowhere in sight, and my second and third daggers were also gone. In fact, I noticed, my usual attire had been replaced with everyday street wear. Not that I minded—when had I ever been able to say no to ripped jeans or band shirts? but I did miss the comfort of my combat clothes.

There wasn't much I could do, so I decided to explore the area. Whatever was going on, I could most likely rule out any ordinary kidnapping or the likes, which still left divine intervention as a possibility. After exiting the alleyway, I decided to turn right, down the street, again overcome by a sense of deja-vu. Some part of my subconscious was screaming for me to pay attention, but whatever it was about this place that rubbed me the wrong way, I would have to figure out later.

Soon, a particular detail caught my eye. On the pavement, maybe hundred metres ahead, sat a child, face hidden in their hands, silently sobbing. As I got closer, I could see make out their black hair, the blue shirt, a familiar pair of lightning bolt–embellished sneakers, and suddenly, everything made sense. The feeling of having seen all this before. The sense of deja-vu.

I'd been here before. Pasadena, South California, 20 minutes out of Los Angeles.

I'd come home.

The child—a boy, apparently—had heard me and stopped crying to stare at me. His face spoke of suspicion and as I got close enough to read the house number, the last puzzle piece fell into place. I hadn't just come home. This _was_ home. How that was possible, I didn't know, but the familiar place, the familiar face of the kid in front of me, told me everything I needed to know. I didn't need to read the plaque next to the door bell to know that it said _Grace_.

'Who are you?'

I looked down. The kid's expression was now openly hostile, and I couldn't blame them. I vividly remembered the way I'd been at—how old were they, eight? at their age. I squatted down to bring myself eye-level with them.

'Hello', I managed to say. 'You wouldn't happen to be', I almost couldn't make myself say it, 'Theon?'

The child's expression turned even more hostile, if that was even possible. 'I don't go by that name.'

I seated myself next to them. They had just confirmed what I'd already assumed. This was my past. And that meant—I swallowed hard at the thought—this kid was me. Would be me. Of course, I had to assume that I was trapped in some sort of dream or vision. For all I knew, this encounter had never happened.

'Who are you?'

'A… _friend_', I answered. 'What's your name then, kiddo?'

They—I, in the future—she frowned. Knowing me, she was contemplating whether to tell me.

'Call me Thalia', she decided. I nodded. So I—she had already decided on my name.

'How old are you… Thalia', I asked. It felt weird, addressing someone else with my own name. Well, technically not someone else. She was me, or at least she was going to be. Didn't make it any less weird.

'None of your business', young Thalia decided. 'Mom says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.'

'Right', I nodded. 'Very sensible of your mom.'

Young Thalia—Thals—huffed. I had tried hard to forget most of this time, but I had a good idea what she was thinking right then. Mom had been many things, but _sensible_ hadn't been one of them.

'Where do you come from?' Thals demanded to know. I shrugged.

'It's a long story.'

After a moment of contemplation, I added. 'I ran away. With some… friends.'

A moment of silence followed. I couldn't what lil me (had I already been planning to run away at this point? I couldn't remember) was thinking.

'You're not supposed to run away', she eventually said. 'Why'd you do it?'

'My brother died', I answered. 'Nothing for me to stay.'

Silence again.

'My… my brother died, too.'

Oh Thals, I thought. You have no idea. Poor, little Thalia, stuck with our mother, still unsure who you are you. You have no clue.

'Sorry to hear that, kid.'

She angrily stomped. 'I'm not a kid.'

'Yeah. Right.'

Something was wrong with my vision, I noticed. The corners of my view became blurry. I blinked, ignoring whatever little me was saying in response, and—

I bolted up right. For a moment, I panicked, my arms seemingly glued to my sides, before I realised where I was.

My tent.

My sleeping bag.

Our camp.

I wiggled out of the covers, slid into my boots and threw my parka over my shoulders before leaving the tent. The snow crunched under my soles as I staggered towards the perimeter, still half-asleep. The huntress standing guard on this side of the camp flinched when I patted her on the shoulder—we'd have to talk about that in the morning, we couldn't afford sloppy sentries—and I motioned for her to go back to sleep. Nothing like a shift of being on watch duty to keep the mind from overthinking.

Fingers numb, I fumbled around with the buttons on my clothes, feeling around my pockets, finally finding what I was looking for. My skin already began to tingle with cold as I opened the box and pulled out a cigarette. I knew Lady Artemis didn't approve, but it was hardly going to kill me, I had argued the first time she'd caught me. Technically, I wasn't even underage anymore.

Everybody needs a guilty pleasure. Even an immortal teenager-turned-elite-warrior.

I stood there, inhaling breath after breath of smoke, staring at the trees and looking out for anything out of the ordinary, until the images began to fade out of my mind. As the sun rose, another huntress came to take over the next shift and I sent her back to bed.

Hang in there, I thought. Hang in there, little Thals. Shit's gonna get better, I promise.

You just gotta believe real hard.

— x —

**A/N:** I have a huge load of headcanons about trans!Thalia and this is one of them. I originally had a larger story planned but ran out of motivation and decided to shorten it to this little ficlet. It's 3am, so I'm probably gonna go out and have a smoke now (picked up the habit recently, I know, it's bad for me) but I had to finish this first.


End file.
